


Rites of Passage

by yalublyutebya



Series: Guided By A Beating Heart [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yalublyutebya/pseuds/yalublyutebya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dating Sherlock Holmes comes with a few tests. Charlie's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rites of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing some of my WIP, but I got distracted by this :-)

Charlie takes one last look at himself in the mirror by the door, calls ’goodbye’ to his sister, and slips out of the door. He draws his coat a little bit tighter around him as a cool breeze finds its way under his jumper, and huddles in on himself as he heads off in the direction of the Tube station.

John and Mary have invited him and Sherlock to dinner and he will admit he’s feeling the nerves a bit. Things are going great with Sherlock, and he knows it’s only a few weeks in, but he has a good feeling about the relationship. He’s already met both John and Mary separately, but for some reason this dinner feels significant. He thinks it might be because, for Sherlock, it is.

Charlie has picked up the odd snippet about Sherlock’s past, but he doesn’t want to push too hard, so he’s still not sure if this is the first serious relationship Sherlock has had. Even if it isn’t, he knows it’s not far off, and this ups the ante somewhat. Sherlock, who pretends not to care that much about what anyone thinks, is absolutely desperate for his closest friends' approval. 

Mary seemed nice enough, the one time Charlie met her, but John is key. Sherlock himself has explained just what John means to him, and they have an incredibly close relationship. Charlie didn’t miss the anxious way Sherlock watched him interact with John on their very first meeting. If he has anyone to impress, it’s John, and he just can’t get a read on him at all. 

A fierce wind snatches his breath away, drawing his attention back to the present. The Tube station is still ten minutes’ walk away and he hunkers down even more, preparing to cross the road. He looks left, then right, and is about to step out when a black car pulls up right in front of him. He makes a face and starts to move round the car, when the rear passenger door opens.

"Get in the car, Mr. Dawson," a male voice tells him.

He halts, instantly suspicious, and ducks down, trying to get a good look at the speaker. 

"Who are you?"

"Do get in," the man says, "I’m a friend of Sherlock's."

Charlie hesitates a moment longer, then - hoping he won’t regret it - he gets into the car. 

Once he’s got his bearings, he finally gets a look at the man sitting at the far end of the backseat, tapping on the end of an umbrella. There is something familiar in the shape of his mouth, and the grey-blue eyes that turn on him.

"Who are you?" Charlie repeats.

"A friend of Sherlock's."

"I’ve met all of Sherlock's friends. At least, I’ve met the important ones."

"Have you now? Interesting."

The man examines him with cool eyes, expression unreadable. "I wonder what it is he sees in you."

Charlie bristles. "I don't think that’s any of your business." He reaches for the door handle. "Stop the car, I'm getting out."

"Don't be silly. We'll get you to John and Mary's soon enough."

Charlie narrows his eyes. "How do you know that?" And then it clicks - an omniscient kidnapper with dark hair and pale eyes. Charlie lets out a laugh.

"Oh god, he warned me about this, but I thought he was joking."

The stranger - not a stranger after all, but Sherlock's brother - raises an eyebrow.

"You’re his brother."

"You know who I am."

"Sherlock told me his brother might kidnap me and interrogate me."

The elder Holmes narrows his eyes. "I’m merely looking out for my brother's interests."

"Right. And kidnapping people off the street is the best way to do that?"

"Yes."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, if you're going to give me the 'break his heart and I’ll break you’ speech you might as well leave it. I care about Sherlock a lot. I’m not going to hurt him."

"You barely know him."

"I know enough."

Sherlock’s brother studies him with an intensity that is at once familiar and not. 

"My brother’s past is somewhat chequered. I’d hate for one of those skeletons to change your mind."

"There’s nothing he can tell me that will change the way I feel."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Look, I get that you’re his big brother and you're just looking out for him, but I don’t appreciate you trying to meddle in our relationship."

Sherlock’s brother makes a face that, on anyone else, would convey that he was impressed. 

"Very well. I’ll spare you the speech, as you put it, but you would do well to know that if you do do anything to hurt Sherlock, I will become your worst nightmare. Is that understood?"

"Yes. Suitably dramatic too. Is the rest of your family as mad as you and Sherlock?"

Sherlock’s brother narrows his eyes, but is prevented from answering by his phone ringing. He looks at the screen and something like a smile crosses his face as he answers.

"Brother dear, what could I possibly do for you?"

Charlie can just hear the faint echo of Sherlock on the other end of the phone. He sounds angry. His brother glances at Charlie.

"He’s absolutely fine."

There is another blast of noise from the other end of the phone, and then Mycroft rolls his eyes and holds the phone out towards Charlie. Charlie takes it, holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asks, angry and concerned.

"I’m fine."

"I’m so sorry for my ridiculous, fat excuse for a brother."

"It’s okay." Charlie smiles. "I’ve got an older sister too, remember."

"I think you’ll acknowledge now that mine is much worse."

"Just a little bit. I’ll see you soon, alright."

"Yes." Sherlock pauses, then adds. "Don’t tell him anything. He’ll just use it against you at some point."

"I’ll bear that in mind. See you."

He passes the phone back to Sherlock’s brother, who sits through what sounds like another blast of invective from Sherlock, before hanging up.

"We'll be there shortly."

"Good."

Sherlock’s brother sits in unnerving silence for the rest of the journey, and Charlie tries his best not to fidget. They finally pull up and Charlie’s hand goes to the handle, but he is halted by Sherlock’s brother speaking up.

"Jenny Broker."

Charlie halts, his heart thumping and the tea he’d had before leaving threatening to make a reappearance. 

"What about her?" Charlie asks tightly.

"Nothing."

Charlie stares, but before he can say anything, the door flies open as soon as they draw to a halt.

"You are an abominable cretin, Mycroft," Sherlock says sharply, before turning to Charlie. "Come on."

Charlie is only too glad to get out of the car. He feels a bit shaky even as he does so. Sherlock slams the door with a little more force than is necessary, and takes a good look at Charlie as the car draws away. 

"Are you alright?"

"I-I think so."

"What did he say to you?"

Charlie shakes himself, gathering his wits. "Just the usual, threatening to hurt me if I hurt you." He smiles. "He's not that scary," he says, but he’s still shaken by the mention of a name he hasn’t heard in ten years. Now is not the time to bring it up, though, and he takes Sherlock’s hand.

"I hope dinner’s almost ready, I’m starving."

Sherlock gives him a long, piercing look, but says nothing and they head into the house. 

*

They step inside and Sherlock takes his coat from him, his hands lingering on Charlie’s shoulders as if for reassurance - for which of them, Charlie isn’t quite sure. Charlie turns to him and gives him a smile, before reaching up to pull him into a kiss. Sherlock comes willingly, his hands twisting in Charlie’s jumper. 

They jump and pull apart when a throat is cleared behind them. "Sorry, I just need to get my phone out of my coat pocket," Mary says with a smile.

Sherlock clears his throat, his hand resting on Charlie’s back. "Mary, you remember Charlie."

"I do. Nice to see you again," she says warmly, stepping forward and reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

"And you. Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, how could I resist a chance to thoroughly embarrass Sherlock," she teases, slipping past them to her coat. 

"I’d like to see you try," Sherlock challenges her, but he’s already blushing. 

"No, you wouldn’t, darling." She gets her phone then waves them towards the kitchen. "Come on through."

They find John in the kitchen, one eye on the dinner and Phoebe perched on his hip. He and Charlie shake hands and Charlie bestows a smile on Phoebe, who is trying to eat her whole fist.

"Somebody's hungry," he comments.

John hums, lips just twitching into a smile. "She’s at that age where they just want to put everything in their mouths."

"It’s a good way to identify things, instead of always relying on your hands," Sherlock comments, taking Phoebe from her father and cradling her in his arms. Charlie smiles at him - he’s absolutely besotted with the girl.

"Don’t get me started on the things you’ve put in your mouth over the years," John says.

Mary snorts and when they look over at her, she waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, you were all thinking the same thing, don’t even pretend otherwise."

John makes a face and Charlie coughs into his hand. Sherlock gives him an odd look, and Charlie just shakes his head, squeezing Sherlock’s waist. He's delightfully innocent about some things. 

"What’s for dinner?" Charlie asks to change the subject.

"Salmon and risotto."

"Mmm. Impressive."

Mary gives him a warm smile. "I try my best. At least one of us needs to make the odd meal that’s not takeaway." She gives her husband and Sherlock both a pointed look.

Charlie laughs. "Yes, I almost feel like I’m being fattened up with all the eating out." He smiles at Sherlock to soften the blow.

"You weren’t complaining when it was free lobster."

"No, I admit it. That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You do spoil me."

Sherlock blushes and it’s absolutely adorable. 

After a short lull, John speaks up again. "So, you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mycroft?" Charlie feels his muscles tense, just for a moment.

"Yes. I feel like I’ve been through some kind of rite of passage."

"I don’t know about rite of passage," John says with a smile, "More like some sophisticated form of torture."

"Yeah, that too."

"Mycroft’s an insufferable arse," Sherlock comments, bouncing Phoebe on his hip as she cuddles against him, watching them all, rapt. 

"Yeah, we all know that," John says to Sherlock, before turning to Charlie. "At least you got a free ride, though."

Charlie laughs. "Silver lining and all that? What’s a little light interrogation if you get to stay warm and dry?"

John chuckles, but Charlie thinks he might have won himself a few brownie points. 

"Do you want to go and set the table, John, I’m almost done," Mary says.

"You alright with little Madame?" John asks Sherlock.

"Yes."

John gets plates and cutlery out of the cupboard. 

"I’ll help," Charlie offers, following John through to the dining room before he even has a chance to protest. 

They set the table in silence, then John stands back to look at it, his arms crossed over his chest. He clears his throat and turns to Charlie.

"So, how are things going? With you and Sherlock?"

"Really well," Charlie admits with a smile.

"Yeah? Good. That’s...good."

"You don’t sound sure."

John’s head snaps up. "No, no, it’s not that." His eyes flick towards the kitchen, then back to Charlie. "I just never really imagined Sherlock in any kind of relationship. He was always so against the idea, used to take the piss out of me all the time. And now, well..." He shrugs. "I’m happy for him. For you both."

"Thank you."

John shifts uncomfortably, eyes flicking to the kitchen. "Just...go easy on him, alright?"

"You sound like we’re going into battle."

"I just don’t want anyone to get hurt."

Charlie straightens, and meets John’s gaze, his voice low. "I won’t ever hurt him, not if I can help it."

John gives him a long look, then a single nod of acceptance. The few seconds before he nods are almost as nerve-wracking as Mycroft’s interrogation.

"Dinner’s ready," Mary calls from the kitchen.

John heads back to the kitchen and Sherlock appears with Phoebe. He gives Charlie a searching look, even as he puts Phoebe in her highchair.

"All good?" he asks.

"Perfect," Charlie answers with a grin, reaching out to rub Sherlock’s arm.

*

"Thank you so much for dinner," Charlie says, kissing Mary’s cheek at the door. He shakes hands with John as Sherlock dips down to kiss Mary, then passes a hand over Phoebe’s hair.

"It was lovely to have you," Mary says. "We’ll do it again sometime soon."

"I’d love to."

A cab pulls up and honks once and he waves in acknowledgement. He and Sherlock say their goodbyes and head out to the taxi.

"Baker Street?" Sherlock asks.

"Yeah."

Sherlock smiles and gives the address, and they settle back for the ride across town. Charlie reaches out and hooks his fingers around Sherlock’s, earning a squeeze in return. Sherlock’s eyes lock on his and he feels every hair stand on end, electric spreading through his body. His eyes slide to Sherlock’s mouth - God, that mouth - and Sherlock parts his lips, tongue passing over them in a movement that Charlie knows to be unconscious but which sets every nerve alight. Almost everything Sherlock does is unconsciously seductive, and it’s almost painful to rein himself in sometimes.

They’re still taking things slowly, and Charlie is perfectly fine with this, but sometimes he’ll look at Sherlock and all he can think about is taking him apart with hands and mouth; about pushing inside and seeing that perfect mouth fall open with pleasure. The thought sends a jolt of want straight to his cock and he shifts in his seat. Sherlock zeroes in on him instantly, and that searing focus doesn’t help.

Sherlock’s eyes flick over him, and Charlie sees the moment he realises as he blushes, but he does not look away. He swipes his thumb over the back of Charlie’s hand, a tease that goes straight to his groin. Charlie raises his eyebrows and Sherlock gives him a coy smile, innocence replaced in an instant with a sensuous confidence that threatens to shatter Charlie’s composure.

"Baker Street," the cabbie announces, startling them out of their daze.

"Just here on the left," Sherlock says, his wobbly voice betraying him.

The cab pulls up and Sherlock throws a banknote at him. "Keep the change."

They hurry out of the taxi to the door and Charlie balls his hands into fists, fighting for a few seconds’ more control as Sherlock struggles to get the door open. He finally shoves it open and waves Charlie inside, before following him in. Sherlock turns back to shut the door and when he turns again, Charlie is there, desperate to kiss him.

Sherlock presses a hand to his chest, stopping him just a few inches away. His eyes have gone dark, and he’s already breathing heavily. "Upstairs."

Charlie nods, and he practically races up the stairs after Sherlock. As soon as the door closes behind them, he pounces, crowding Sherlock against the door and capturing that beautiful mouth with his own. Sherlock groans and fists a hand in his jumper, dragging him closer. Charlie complies, fitting his leg between Sherlock’s and drawing a moan from both of them when he tugs their hips together.

He drops his mouth to Sherlock’s neck, sucking at his pulse-point as Sherlock lets out a noise close to a whimper. Charlie presses his thigh further between Sherlock’s legs and is gratified when Sherlock thrusts against him, his head falling back against the door with a crack. 

Charlie pulls back to look at him and is taken aback at the sight. He still can’t figure out what he’s done right in his life for the privilege of seeing Sherlock Holmes slowly unravelling, that big brain handing all control over to his body. 

"You’re gorgeous," he husks, running a hand from hip to chest to neck and back again as Sherlock closes his eyes in pleasure. Charlie lets his hand drop to cup Sherlock through his trousers and is rewarded by a cut-off moan. The sound makes him even harder, and he reaches for the zip of Sherlock’s trousers with trembling hands. 

Sherlock does his best to help and finally, finally, Charlie is able to shove trousers and silk boxers down around his hips, hand wrapping around Sherlock. Sherlock swallows another moan as Charlie strokes him - he’s beautifully hard and full, the tip weeping. Charlie is desperate to taste him.

He draws back and holds Sherlock’s gaze as he lowers himself slowly to his knees. Sherlock’s eyes widen impossibly and when Charlie pauses, waiting for permission, he nods shakily. Charlie leans in and circles the head with his tongue and Sherlock gasps, his legs trembling. 

"Charlie," he gets out.

Charlie hums and Sherlock makes an obscene noise, one hand flying to Charlie’s head, barely touching him. Charlie reaches up and encourages him to hold on, his fingers threading into Charlie’s hair, and then Charlie takes him in almost to the root. 

Sherlock makes that obscene noise again, so Charlie does it again. The taste of him is perfect, musky and bitter, and he’s leaking profusely already. Charlie hums and Sherlock makes a muffled choking noise. When Charlie glances up, Sherlock has his head thrown back against the door and he’s biting down on his free hand. Charlie feels the urge to make him scream.

He sneaks a hand between Sherlock’s legs and fondles his sac, earning him another muffled moan. The hand in his hair tightens, shaking at the same time, and his legs are trembling violently. Charlie sucks him down to the root, pulling gently on his sac, and Sherlock chokes out a curse around his fist. Looping his fingers around the base, Charlie sets up a steady pace that leaves Sherlock shaking so hard he almost dislodges Charlie, his free hand joining his other in Charlie’s hair, just this side of painful. He is making the most beautiful sounds. 

Charlie lets his fingers slide back over Sherlock’s perineum to circle his hole, and when he presses down gently just as he swallows Sherlock whole, Sherlock lets out a tortured cry and fills Charlie’s mouth with come. He bucks violently and Charlie has to steady him with a hand on his hip as he swallows greedily. 

Sherlock is still recovering above him but he can't wait any longer. He lets Sherlock’s cock slip free as he tears at his trousers until he can get his hand around his cock. It only takes a few pulls before he’s coming with a groan, his face pressed to Sherlock’s hip. 

When he comes back to himself, fingers are weaving shakily through his hair and he tilts his head up to look at Sherlock. He looks absolutely wrecked, mouth red and wet, eyes wide, neck and face flushed red. His expression softens and he touches his thumb to Charlie’s mouth. 

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

Charlie laughs, and climbs to his feet. "You don’t need to thank me."

He presses his forehead to Sherlock’s and Sherlock cups the back of his neck, holding him close.

"No-one’s ever..." He trails off, but his meaning is clear.

"Idiots," Charlie says, brushing his lips over Sherlock’s. "You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever had."

Sherlock huffs in something like amusement, but his hand squeezes the back of Charlie’s neck.

"Come on, let’s get cleaned up."

Charlie tries to move but Sherlock stops him and Charlie gives him a questioning look.

"I don’t think I can walk yet," he says, lips curving into a smile.

Charlie laughs. "Good." He kisses Sherlock again, because he can, and falls just a little bit further in love. 

*

Charlie showers and dries himself off with one of Sherlock’s ridiculously luxurious towels, before returning to the bedroom, where Sherlock is reading a forensics magazine. He looks up when Charlie enters, and his whole face softens. 

Charlie sits on the edge of the bed and turns towards Sherlock, pulling one leg up underneath him. He’s been mulling things over in the shower and he can’t leave it any longer.

"Look, there’s something I need to tell you, about my past."

"Okay."

Charlie struggles to find the right words and Sherlock reaches out for him. Charlie looks up at him, and he throws the words out before he can stall any longer.

"I was engaged, once."

"So was I."

Charlie is momentarily distracted from what he is saying. "What? You were?"

"It was a fake engagement though," Sherlock admits, face colouring. "Sorry, not very appropriate. You were being serious."

Charlie wants nothing more than to kiss him, but he forces himself back to the matter at hand.

"Mine wasn’t. Well, not on purpose."

Sherlock looks confused.

"We were only nineteen and I thought I loved her."

"Her."

"Yes. Her name was... Jenny." He still struggles to say the name, even now. "She lived next door." 

"What happened?" Sherlock asks, steering him back on course.

"I fell in love with a boy at university. I'd always suspected, but y’know, being gay just wasn’t..." He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together.

"And how did Jenny take the news?" Sherlock asks quietly - he asks like he already knows the answer, and maybe he does, maybe he’s already worked it out.

"She killed herself," he says, and his hands start to shake of their own volition. "They only found out afterwards that she was pregnant."

Silence follows his confession, and when he looks up, Sherlock is wearing a faint frown of consternation.

"Sherlock?" he prompts warily.

"Mycroft," he bites out. "He said something to you. That’s why you decided to tell me."

"He said her name."

"That bastard."

"Hey," Charlie says softly, taking Sherlock’s hands in his. "It’s okay. I wanted to tell you."

Sherlock doesn’t look convinced, but his expression changes, and he squeezes Charlie’s hands in his. "I’m sorry for what you went through."

"I should have been honest with her from the start. I still... She'd be alive if it weren't for me."

"Sometimes you can’t help hiding who you really are from the people you love."

"If it’s really love, you don’t have to hide."

"No," Sherlock agrees in a low voice, and they share a long look before Charlie draws him into a gentle kiss. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows it’s too soon. Sherlock isn’t ready to hear the words yet, isn’t ready to believe - Charlie will just have to keep showing him in deeds, not words.


End file.
